The Medallion
by subobscura
Summary: Greg accidentally reveals a secret about his past to Nick, which helps Nick on his path to healing.
1. Prologue

Title: The Medallion- Part 1

Author: subobscura

Archive: ask

Rating: T

Pairing: Nick/ Greg friendship, preslash, may enter slash territory

Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm making no money, yadda yadda. Consider me disclaimed.

A/N: So I wrote this off a plot bunny I've been thinking of for a while. Don't worry loyal readers, I'll get back to the Unburdening. I've been suffering writer's block/ apathy for a few weeks and wrote this. Originally intended it to be a oneshot, but it'll be more like 3 I think. It was getting long and late, which is my excuse for starting another multipart story. Wrote this listening to Sigur Ros. Frankly, I don't see what Eric S. does, but hey, to each his own. Contains slashy undertones at the very least, so I guess if you can't stand that then don't read. However, I encourage those who've never tried slash to broaden their boundaries, if not here, then with someone who can do it well, like **geekwriter143**.

Part 1:

Greg stifled a yawn as he got ready to shut his locker and head home that morning. On a whim, he took out the medallion which had been sitting on the top shelf for the past few weeks. He ran his finger over the engraved face, feeling the contrast between the cold metal and the deep grooves. The date read August 1, 1995. He smiled slightly. So much had happened since then. He went to replace it in its usual spot, when it slipped in his grasp and fell on the floor with a clatter where it immediately rolled away towards Nick, who was dead on his feet and looked like he was contemplating the couch in the break room.

"Shit," Greg said and moved to chase after it.

"Oh, hey Man, let me grab that for you," Nick said and stooped to grab the large coin, not noticing Greg's discomfort. Greg stood there, his heart beating strongly in his chest, hoping that his friend would hand it over without giving it any thought.

No such luck. Nick turned it over in his hand, the metal gleaming dully in the dim light light. The lines on his face deepened like they tended to do when he was deep in thought.

_Shit, shit, shit, stupid _Greg thought. He'd effectively hidden his secret for more than 10 years only to ruin it one random morning from reckless carelessness. He'd never wanted it out to the rest of the team, except for Grissom who had to know.

"Greg, this is a sobriety medallion."

Greg sighed and slammed shut his locker, before turning to lean against the row of lockers, the dial digging into his back. He tilted his head up to the ceiling, and said "Yup."

"With your name on it."

"Gee, Nick, with those investigative skills, you should go into law enforcement."

"Hey, no need to get snarky on me. We don't need another Hodges. I was just making a simple observation. N-A. Stands for narcotics anonymous, right?"

Greg chanced a look at Nick, who looked as always put together in a long sleeved blue shirt and black jeans. Seeing frank curiosity on his colleague's face, Greg realized he wasn't going to get out of this one without a lengthy explanation. He let out another deep sigh.

"Yeah, yeah you're right." He smiled a little ruefully. "I'm not going to squeak by without telling you about this, am I?"

"'Fraid not, Greggo."

Greg shrugged. Nick had been even more elusive this past year than before. Greg had seen him only twice outside of work since his recovery, once at a barbecue Catherine had hosted to celebrate the team reuniting, which didn't count since it was work related. He decided some quality time with his friend would more than make up for the humiliation he'd have to endure by revealing his past. He had no hopes for anything more than simple friendship, since even if Nick had once been interested, now didn't seem like it would be a good time to start anything.

"I'll tell you all about it over sausage and eggs, Nicky."

"Only if you're payin', G. Rick emptied my pockets on that last case."

Greg grinned and saw his expression echoed in the older man's face. Nick's smile was much gentler, a little sad around the edges, but Greg would take it. For now.

"Lead the way, Stokes."


	2. Miniature Disasters

Title: The Medallion

Author: subobscura

See first chapter for full headers.

A/N: Well, I just spent like two hours trying to make a cover for this story, but alas, my editor kept freezing up. sniff I'm really sleepy, but I feel I must update. Musical inspiration, um, K T Tunstall. The chapter title is from a song on her album, Eye to the Telescope, which is a pretty big inspiration for this piece. Very beautiful album. Um, yeah, this isn't beta'd or even reread, so I take full responsibility for any horrendous mistakes.

Part 2- Miniature Disasters

"Hey Bonnie," Greg smiled up at the forty something waitress who'd been at the diner longer than he'd been at the crime lab.

"Greg, long time no see!" She exclaimed. "You have no idea how boring it is around here without you to liven things up. Hey Nick," she said as an aside.

"Ma'am." Nick nodded at her.

Greg rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, well, all work and no play makes Greg a dull boy. I usually crash after shift."

"Man's gotta eat though, honey."

"Now that I make the big bucks, I can't afford to eat out every day. How's Gracie?"

"Oh she's good. She just started learning cursive. She's all excited because now she writes like a big girl."

"What grade is she in again?"

"Third going on high school."

"God, Bonnie, don't give me a heart attack," Greg moaned. "Man, I'm getting so old."

"Please, you don't look a day over 25 on your worst days. It's so unfair," she pouted. "You want your usual today?"

"Yep, coffee, lucky charms, two eggs scrambled, four links, and an orange juice," he repeated for Nick's benefit.

"You know, sweetie, you're the only person over 16 who orders Lucky Charms here. And this is a cop hangout so we don't even get many kids."

"What can I say? I have a young heart to match my youthful exterior."

"That stuff'll kill you Greggo. How can you eat candy for breakfast?" Nick asked, his eyes crinkling. He was enjoying the early morning banter. It was a comfortable way to end the day.

"Easily and rapidly."

"How bout' you Nicky? What'll it be?" Bonnie turned towards him with a kind smile, her hand resting loosely on her hip.

"What the hell. Same as he's having, minus the Lucky Charms. I'll take Raisin Bran if you've got it."

"Good man," she said, patting him on the shoulder before she turned to drop off their orders with the cook.

_Order up! Pair of drawers to start out. Two bowls of birdseed, one charmed and one pruned. Two cackle fruit and wreck em' with four zeppelins on one and two, and squeeze two. _

The clatter of the diner surrounded them with its familiar comforts. Greg leaned back in his seat and sprawled his legs, unsure of where to start. Nick and he weren't exactly on close terms since last spring. He didn't think Nick was on close terms with anyone really, but he didn't allow himself to examine that too closely.

"So," he said.

"So," Nick echoed.

Greg picked at the edge of the pleather seat, which was fraying from years of use. Suddenly, he grinned and looked up at Nick, his eyes sparkling with a little mischief.

"My name is Greg Sanders, and I'm thirty-one years old. I'm a drug addict. I've been sober for 10 years, six months, and 5 days." Maybe if he kept this tongue in cheek, he could get through this with as little pain as possible.

"Greg," Nick trailed off. He shifted in his seat and looked down. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

Greg felt bad. Nick was reaching out to him and he was pushing him away with sarcasm. They had all seen the man at his lowest, most vulnerable point in his life, had watched as he cried and screamed and begged for mercy, had watched as his personal life was displayed on the national stage. Greg realized it was only fair that he give something in return.

"I'm sorry, Nick. I'm an asshole. You can ask me whatever you want, I'm just not used to talking about it."

Nick looked up and smiled a little, seeing that Greg understood where he was coming from. He sighed and squinted a little in the bright sun coming through the plate glass window. "Alright, fair enough I guess. Half the time I've known you I thought you were on drugs anyway, so I guess it's not _much_ of a surprise." He grinned to take the sting of his words away.

Greg wrinkled his nose. "Whatever, man. I enjoy the hell out of life, no crime in that."

"Definitely not," Nick agreed. "So what were you on?"

"What wasn't I on is a better question." Greg leaned forward and put his elbows on the table looking down, suddenly shy. Before now, he'd never really been reticent about his experiences with his friends, but this was Nick, a man he'd once had a huge crush on. It sucked to have to disappoint his friend. "I guess if I had to choose a main drug of choice, it would be coke, but I've tried pretty much everything there is to try." He risked a glance up. Nick held him with his steady gaze, but his eyes weren't hard or judgmental, only questioning.

"Jesus, man. I was only kidding about the drugs. It's sort of hard for me to imagine you doing all that stuff."

Greg shrugged. "Believe it," he said. He took out the medallion and rolled it over to Nick. He smiled wryly, and said, "Got the medal to prove it."

"How'd you fall into that scene, Greggo? You're a smart guy, a chemist. You know what that shit does to your brain. That was after Stanford, so, what happened?"

"I know it was stupid," Greg snapped. "Sorry." He softened his tone a bit. "The same way it happens to everyone I guess. It was the summer before I started grad school, and I moved to Berkeley to set up my apartment. My roommate at the time was into the club scene, and I kind of got dragged along for the ride. A bump here, a bump there. It's sounds retarded, like a peer education video or something, but everyone was doing it. It was a fast downward spiral."

"Shit, G, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like a jackass."

"It's okay, I understand. It really was one of the lowest points in my life. I sucked the better part of a 12k inheritance up my nose."

He glanced up and smiled warmly at Bonnie, who had come back with their juice and coffee. Bonnie put their drinks down, patted his back, and walked away without continuing their earlier banter. Evidently, she had noticed their serious conversation.

"You know, all those times you said you did all those crazy things, I really thought you made half of them up."

Greg laughed a little at that. "Yeah well, some of them I did. Do. It's just so easy to get a rise out of you people. But a lot of it is autobiographical."

"So, why'd you stop?"

Greg lost his smile, and his eyes took on that serious, thoughtful expression that was more his speed these days. "I, uh, I drove up to my parent's house the last weekend in July. As soon as they saw me, they knew something was terribly wrong. I was pale, gaunt, dirty. My pictures from that time are horrific. We couldn't really afford rehab at the time, and anyway, I didn't want that on my record. In my lucid moments, I still really wanted to go to grad school." He sighed. "I detoxed that weekend in my bedroom from when I was a kid." He shuddered. "To this day, I can't go in there anymore without getting physically ill. I stayed there for a week. When I went back for orientation, I cleared out all my stuff, broke the lease on my apartment, and moved in to a single by myself. I had to quit the whole scene cold turkey. For the first six months, I went to a meeting every day, which isn't difficult in a place like Berkely where every other person is a recovering addict. At least, that's what it felt like."

Nick had his hands on the table as though he wanted to reach out and comfort Greg. They didn't have that kind of relationship though, so he curled his fingers in and looked at Greg, who was bathed in sunlight slanting in from outside.

"That's how you got clean, G. I asked why."

Greg's shoulders slumped, and when he looked up, Nick caught his breath. All of a sudden, the young man looked like he might cry. His sleepy brown eyes were huge in his face, and all Nick could see there was regret piled on regret. Greg leaned his face in one hand, and traced his finger through the condensation on the table from his orange juice.

"Um, yeah. Right." Greg really really did not want to talk about this, especially to Nick. It would ruin any chance they had of ever becoming something more.

"Hey, man, it's alright. You can tell me to go to hell if it's none of my business."

For a moment, hope flared in Greg and then guttered out. He was caught, and even if he never said anything more, this would always sit between them like a heavy invisible barrier. At least maybe he could hope for Nick's understanding, his forgiveness.

"No, no, I want to. It's just not easy. Um," he took a shuddering breath. "When I woke up that weekend, before I ran home, I woke up on the floor of a guy's apartment whose name I didn't even know. I wasn't high anymore, and I realized the place was a shithole. There was no furniture, there was graffiti everywhere. There were roaches trying to eat my fingernails." He paused. "I was naked, totally naked lying with a filthy blanket with god knows what on it. I slept with the guy the night before to get a bump, and the worst part is, that wasn't even the first time something like that had happened." He sniffed, and reached up to brush a few stray tears off his cheek. He felt extremely self conscious sitting in a cop diner pouring out his life story to Nick, when any of his friends or the cops from the nightshift could see him.

"I'd been trading sex for drugs for the better part of a month then, doing whatever and whoever to chase that next high. I'd always been able to rationalize it before then, but it just hit me. I was tricking myself out for drugs. I was a prostitute. A whore, and I disgusted myself and hated myself. I couldn't figure out how I went from PBK to whore in a matter of months." He was staring hard at the table now, trying to decipher the wood grain.

"I was so lucky, Nicky. So so lucky. I somehow by the grace of god managed not to catch anything, and I had friends and family who were willing to help me out despite how stupid and useless I had been. But I'll always have to live with how I debased myself."

This time, Nick did reach out and put his hands over Greg's, curving his fingers over the other man's tightly curled fists. He didn't care how it looked, right now his friend needed his understanding.

When, he felt Nick's hands over his and looked up and saw the Texan's compassionate gaze, to his horror, Greg let out a sob. Sliding one of his hands from under Nick's, he looked around quickly and swiped at the tears flowing freely down his face. "Shit," he said. "I'm a mess." He tried to grin. "I told myself when I went on Oprah, I wouldn't cry." Nick laughed and tightened his hold on Greg's hand. He knew things weren't terrible if Greg was trying to crack jokes. "Hey, uh, I'm going to run to the men's room real quick. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

Nick nodded, but didn't follow the other man when he got up. Greg needed a few minutes alone to collect himself. He found himself missing the heat of Greg's hand.

In the bathroom, Greg splashed some water on his face before looking at himself in the mirror. He didn't look any different than he normally did, except for the red eyes and the runny nose. But somehow, his world had shifted on its' axis. He had told Nick his deepest darkest secret, in the middle of a diner no less, and the man was still here. Maybe even still his friend. Greg actually felt lighter than he had in a long time.

When he got back to the table, the food had arrived, but Nick had politely waited for him to return before tucking in.

"Hey, man. We can get this stuff to go if you don't feel like eating anymore." Greg thought he just wanted to go home, but at the sight of the food, he realized he was famished.

"Nah, it's okay. Besides, I can't let a bowl of Lucky Charms go to waste."

They spent the rest of the meal making small talk, laughing at stupid jokes and arguing over video games. For that hour, it was almost as though the entire past year had never happened, and suddenly, things seemed like they might be okay again. Greg knew their conversation wasn't over, but for now, it felt like a delicious luxury to relax with a mellow Nick.

Later, as they walked out to the parking lot, Greg realized that he wasn't ready to let go of their tenuous connection. Once upon a time, Nick and he had been pretty good friends, best friends even, and it felt so good to have that back.

"Hey, Nick?" He asked. Nick turned away from his truck to look at Greg.

"You wanna come over for a beer or two?"

Nick grinned. "I was just gonna ask you the same thing."

A/N: Yeeps. I fear this thing might be getting a life of its' own. Feedback makes my day.


	3. We Don't Run

Title: The Medallion

Author: subobscura

See first chapter for full headers.

A/N: Well, after that little scene our boys pulled tonight, I just HAD to keep writing this story. Man, I don't know if the writers have loosened up or if TPTB have, but holy smokes, they were HOT and flirty. And that look, you know the one I'm talking about. Anyway, uh, yeah. This chapter inspired by Willie Nelson I guess. Slashy. Slashy, slashy, slashy. You no likey, you no readey.

Part 3- We Don't Run

Greg opened the door to his apartment, and leaned down to catch two streaks of black fur that had run at the first sound of his keys.

"I can't believe you live in a complex whose name is 'Snug Harbor,' G." Nick was grinning as he followed the young man into the foyer.

"Hugo and Bossy," Greg said as he held up first one cat, then the other, both of whom were squirming to escape and sniff the stranger. Nick nodded, and Greg rolled his eyes when he realized the other man hadn't caught the fashion reference. He sighed. Honestly, some people's children…"Bossy really is bitchy, so watch out. She uses her claws. And as for the name, you have a dirty mind." He shot a look at Nick, who just smirked at him.

"Okay, fine, so the thought had occurred to me, too. But it's not like everyone doesn't know I'm completely corrupted."

"No argument here, Greggo," said Nick, who was holding a loudly purring Hugo.

Greg narrowed his eyes at the cat. "Hussy," he said, but Hugo just blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Greg went straight to the kitchen, yelling at Nick, "What's your pleasure? I have Bud for domestic and Molsen, which is Canadian."

"Uh, Bud's fine," Nick said, staring around the condo. Without Greg's influence, it could have been boring, but Greg had made the place his own. Nick could see how the asymmetrical ceilings, wide windows, and interesting angles would appeal to Greg's aesthete. He had utilized the light and space, painting the walls a sky blue, and hanging his favorite album art. On one wall, Nick recognized several framed Andy Warhol reproductions. The sofa in the sunken living room was red and free standing, very modern in its curvature. There were two matching red chairs, and a clear acrylic coffee table as well. All in all, it was both exactly what he had expected and a total surprise, much like the man himself. It was clean, sophisticated, but also trendy, a space he knew Greg would be completely comfortable in.

Greg showed up at his side, proffering the promised beer in a tall glass with a short head of foam. "Like it," he asked, and there was a hint of worry in his eyes, like the Texan's opinion mattered to him.

"Yeah, G, actually I do. It's very you."

Greg grinned and flopped down on his sofa, sprawling in all directions while somehow managing not to spill his beer. "I am the master of my domain," he said cheekily. He patted the cushion next to him. "Come, sit, stay a while. You're making me nervous standing over there by the door." Nick complied, and when he sat down, he groaned at how comfortable it was.

"Man, what is this? It feels great."

"Microfiber, baby. Silky smooth." And was Greg flirting with him? Or was it just Greg being Greg? Nick sighed internally. Sometimes it was so hard to tell.

They sat for a while without saying anything, watching as Bossy tussled with one of Greg's shoelaces and sipping their beers. "Thanks for being so cool back at the diner." Greg's voice broke the sleepy hush. It was almost noon, the dead of night by their biological clocks, but they still had plenty of time to sleep before next shift. "For being so cool about everything. That's the first time I've told anyone in Vegas besides Grissom, and I really wasn't sure how it would go over."

"Grissom knows?" Nick was a little surprised, but he guessed it made sense.

"Yeah, I figured it was best to get things out in the open. He has an uncanny ability to find those things out anyway. He tends to not put me in charge of drug related things, and I pee in a cup for him every once in a while, but overall he's been extremely cool. Much more so than most other bosses would be I suspect."

"It's been a long time, G. You're a different man now, and it's obvious you regret what you did." Nick shrugged. "Your experience may even help you be a better CSI in some ways." He looked over at the other man, and then down, his brown eyes darkening. "Besides, I'm so screwed up, far be it from me to judge other people about anything they do."

This time, it was Greg's turn to put his hand on Nick's shoulder, rubbing in a comforting circle. He really didn't know how Nick had been struggling the past year, especially alone as he was, but it couldn't have been easy. "It's okay Nick. Everyone understands, and you've been doing so well." Nick looked up, and all of a sudden there was a fierce devotion in Greg's eyes. "I know I haven't been the best friend these past months, but I want you to know that ends today. Our team has been falling apart at the seams because we can't talk to each other anymore. If we lose our friendship, then a part of us dies, and Walter Gordon wins. It means a lot to me that you can accept me, no questions asked, and I want to be able to do the same for you."

"Thanks, G. That, that really means the world to me. You have no idea." Nick looked away, his jaw tightening. "Truth is, I've been running just as hard from y'all as you have from me. I don't know how to deal sometimes. Mostly it's just that people scare the hell out of me now, after Crane and Gordon." Nick was relieved to finally be talking, to find someone who genuinely wanted to listen. Greg sat back against the arm of the sofa, one leg tucked under him, waiting patiently. He sighed, frustrated. "I don't know what to feel. I mean, it could have just as easily been you or Warrick on that call that night. It wasn't personal, it had nothing to do with CSI 3 Nick Stokes, LVPD. But, it did happen, it happened to me, and there are days when I just don't know what to do with that."

Greg lifted one side of his mouth in a sad smile. "I don't know what to tell you, Nicky. We just have to muddle through as best we can sometimes. I'll be here any time you need to vent, though. I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I do. I haven't been able to see that until now. I was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that I kind of lost sight of the fact that I don't have to do this alone."

"I understand," Greg said. And Nick could see that he really did. After the drugs and the lab explosion, Nick could imagine very well that there were many days where just existing had been a struggle for the man sitting next to him.

"We're a pair aren't we?" Nick asked. "Man, I bet the sheer expense of therapy bills between the two of us are enough to pay for a condo twice this size."

Greg rolled his eyes. "You have no idea, Nick," he said grinning. He turned serious again. "You know," he said, digging in his pocket. "This medallion was my gift from my sponsor on the 5th anniversary of me getting clean. I keep it around to remind me of the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. I had it on me the whole time I was doing my CSI training, taking classes and pulling doubles every other day and still doing DNA. I also had it on me when I was going through that whole skin grafting process and I had to kick the opiates again to boot. I don't count that since there is no way I could have survived without pain medication, but that didn't make stopping any easier. As long as I could look at this, I realized that no matter how bad things got, I'd already made it through the worst part relatively unscathed." He held it in his palm, watched the bronze glow and wink in the noontime sunlight. The he handed it over to Nick.

"What," Nick asked.

"I want you to hang on to this for me for a while."

"G, I can't take that, it's too special to you."

"Then I suggest you don't lose it. Nick, you need this more than me right now. When things get bad, I want you to look at it and remember that you've got a friend who knows how bad it can get, and I also want you to remember that no matter what, things can always get better."

Nick slid the medallion from Greg's palm, the cool metal contrasting with the heat between their hands. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little husky. He looked at it a moment before sliding it with care into the pocket of his leather jacket lying on the arm of the sofa. Just then, Greg yawned loudly. He grinned, a little sheepish.

"Sorry, I don't mean to destroy the deepness but it is getting a little late."

"Oh, I should go then," said Nick.

Greg looked at his watch. "Are you kidding? 'Days of Our Lives is just about to start. Best part about working the nightshift? Great, late night television. C'mon, the t.v. is in the bedroom."

Nicked scoffed, but said, "G, are you sure? I don't want to put you out."

"Nah, it's no big deal. I can even find you something more comfortable to wear in case you crash."

Nick felt a little off-kilter. The day started off normally and now he was ending it in Greg Sanders' bed. He shrugged. There were worse things that could happen.

Later, they were relaxing into the down comforter on opposite sides of the bed. Nick was in a sleepy haze listening to Greg chatter on about Hope and Bo and Marlena and John and Kerry and Austin and Sammy. He had no idea who those people were or how they related to the plot or even if there was a plot. He was more entertained by Greg's enthusiasm anyway. Greg stretched, his t-shirt rucking up to reveal a pale expanse of taut abs, when Nick saw a glint of silver and a flash of blue.

"G, what do you have on your stomach there?" Nick realized his brain to mouth filter had gone on strike.

Greg flushed a little, but pulled up his t-shirt to show Nick two more of his well kept secrets.

"I didn't know you had a belly ring, Sanders." Indeed, there was a barbell pierced through the top part of Greg's navel, winking in the blue light from the t.v.

"Yeah, well, I don't go prancing around in the locker room shirtless all the time like some people," Greg countered.

"I do not prance," Nick protested.

Greg's sleepy eyes were heavy as he said, "Oh, you totally prance."

"Whatever, man. I don't know what you're talking about. What's that tattoo you've got there," he asked.

"Oh," Greg said, pausing a little, somewhat shy. He pulled his sweats lower to one side on his left hip to expose the picture inked there. The line of fur traveling downward from his navel was just barely visible in the half-light. Nick unconsciously licked his lips. "That's my Buddha," said Greg, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Nick moved close to him to get a good look, turning on his side.

"Why is he blue," asked Nick, reaching out to trace it lightly with one finger.

"Um," Greg said, and then cleared his throat. "It's a medicine Buddha. It's believed that even seeing him is beneficial and healing. I got him after my last skin graft. Kind of a cosmic F-U to fate." Nicked stared at the placid expression of the figure, the legs crossed in the lotus position, the hands holding some kind of plants. Somehow, despite the calm appearance of the figure, it still seemed fitting for Greg. The Buddha had that same half smile that Greg did, that same centeredness that was so attractive. His skin was hot and smooth under his fingers. On a whim, he pressed his palm over the whole tattoo.

He looked into Greg's eyes, which were large and dark and a little scared. His breathing was shallow and rapid.

"I think it's working," Nick said, his voice husky and low. He removed his hand, and bent to place a damp, open mouthed kiss over the same spot, before moving higher to do the same to Greg's belly ring. Greg shifted a little and let out a quiet moan. Then Nick lifted up and pulled Greg's shirt back down, smoothing it over his abs with a tender caress. He propped himself up on one elbow, and looked at the man lying below him. Despite the fear, there was also trust and curiosity in his gaze. Nick leaned down and brushed a kiss on Greg's lips, which were soft and warm and dry. He kissed him again with a little more pressure, and Greg opened and allowed him entry with a low rumble in his chest. They kissed lightly, exploring just a little with soft swipes of their tongues. Then Nick pulled back, brushing a hand through Greg's dirty blond hair. He lay down on his back and pulled the other man to him so that Greg had his head on Nick's chest, Nick's arm around his slim shoulders.

"Go to sleep, honey," Nick said, and he felt Greg nod against him. "We'll figure this all out tomorrow." They sank into each other, listening to the cats purr and the low drone of the television. For once, Greg didn't seem to have anything to say. For now, it was enough that they were together sharing breath in the heat of the afternoon.

A/N: This pairing is so easy and natural to write. I love it, writing this chapter gave me some of my own cosmic peace. ) So, I kid you not, Snug Harbor condos do exist right near UNLV. I watch too much Days of Our Lives. And the blue Buddha really is a great image to meditate on. More to come, and as always, feedback is lurve!


	4. Dance in your bones

Title: The Medallion

Author: subobscura

See first chapter for rating and full headers.

A/N: I had a nice two and a half hour car ride tonight to think about where I want this to go next. I have nothing special to say tonight except thanks for the reviews. The next chapter should be expected Monday night or Tuesday, but perhaps as late as Friday. I have two papers and an exam next week, so fun writing has to take a backseat for a bit. For those of you that celebrate Passover or Easter, I hope you have a peaceful and meaningful celebration. The chapter title is from Wallace Stegner's beautiful novel, _All the Little Live Things_. Still slashy. Do I have to warn people every chapter?

Part 4- Dance in your bones

Nick didn't know when he woke up, but one moment he was enveloped in black and the next he was fully conscious of his surroundings with his eyes wide open. Sometimes, it was like this. He didn't wake with a jolt, but would instead breathe deeply, his thoughts edged in panic, until he could sort things out. And now here he was in Greg's bed in Greg's house, his bare chest caressed by the dry spring winds that swept through the open window and billowed the curtains and rattled the Venetian blinds. He didn't know what time it was, but it still felt early, like he didn't need to be up for awhile.

He turned over on his side and buried his face in the pillow and inhaled the scent of the other man. Hair product, a light cologne, and sweat that smelled uniquely of Greg. Nick was struck by the domesticity of it, waking up in the middle of the night next to his sleeping partner, even though nothing had really happened, and either one of them could chalk it up to fatigue and grease-induced hallucinations. Nick wouldn't do that though, because he realized at this point in his life, after everything that had happened, this right here and right now was what he needed more than anything. And even though he wasn't into self-pity, he felt he had earned whatever little happiness he could find, his family be damned and the team be damned and the LVPD be damned. He didn't know if Greg was the answer, but he sure as hell wanted to try.

He lifted his face from the pillow, and propped his head on his arm, intent on watching the young man beside him sleep. The whole day didn't seem real, seemed like a dream within a dream, and yet, he could feel the heat radiating off of Greg's body. Greg lay curled loosely on his side facing away from Nick, his hair mussed and spread on the pillow in exact contrast to the usual perfect control Greg maintained over it at work. He was a study in artistic grace with his long gracile limbs and pale skin, clothed only in white boxer briefs and a white t-shirt. They had both shed layers during the night to escape the pooling heat. Nick knew later he would sketch this moment with perfect clarity because he wanted to remember him forever in his innocence.

Nick noticed after a time that Greg's slim shoulders were shaking slightly, that he was taking breathy little gasps of air instead of the expected deep slow draws of sleep. Nick was utterly confused. He granted that the day's events were completely unexpected, but he was admittedly happy with the result. He couldn't understand why Greg was crying, and further why he was trying to hide it from him.

He reached out to gently touch the other man's shoulder, just a light brush, and asked in a whisper, "G, baby, what's wrong?" Maybe he was taking liberties with the pet names, but more often than not this was what he wanted to say anyway, and he was done hiding his feelings, just like that, like a switch had been flicked and could no longer be turned off.

The shaking stopped suddenly and there was silence from the other side of the bed, like Greg was ashamed at being caught in a terribly private moment. He drew his hand up to wipe his face before rolling over to face Nick. It was still early, only 7, so the streetlights hadn't come on yet and the east-facing room was dim. Greg's eyes were large frightened black pools in his face. He had streaks of tears on his cheeks, like he had been crying for a while.

"Why are you doing this?" Greg's voice was equally pitched in a low whisper, filled with damp tears.

"What," Nick asked, still confused, his accent deepening. "You asked me to stay, so I did."

"No," Greg gave an impatient shake of his head. "Why do you want to be with me?" If this was supposed to clarify things, Nick thought Greg had failed.

Nick reached out to trace a line down the side of the other man's face, cupping his jaw in his large palm. "G, I've wanted you for so long, I can't remember when it started. All I know is that one day, when we were talking, I realized I wanted to kiss you, and the thought didn't come as a surprise, like it had been there all along. My heart hurts with how much I want you. It just never seemed like the right time."

Greg's face contracted in a rictus of pain under Nick's hand and his whole body shuddered in a sob. His hand clenched in a fist by his side. "How can you say that, after everything I told you today? How can you still want me?" His voice was anguished and disbelieving.

"Sweetheart, what on earth are you getting at? Of course I still want you."

Greg growled before closing his eyes. "But I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anyone. I'm so dirty, Nick. I'm a drug-addicted whore. How can you want that when you can do so much better than me?"

How had Greg hidden all this behind his sweet façade for 11 years? Nick never would have guessed at the extent of the other man's pain. "Oh, God. G, open your eyes." Greg remained still with his eyes tightly clenched. "Greg, look at me," he said forcefully, in his best interrogation voice. Greg opened his eyes, tears spilling to slide over the bridge of his nose. "Good. I want you to see how sincere I am when I say this. I've known you for 7 years now, which is a hell of a long time. And though I've thought a great many things about you, not once have I ever thought of you as bad or ugly or dirty. That will not change because of what you've told me. When I think of Greg Sanders, I think of the man with the biggest heart, and the sharpest mind, and the fastest tongue I have ever known. I think of loud music and crazy shirts and hair with a personality all its own. I think of a man who can fill a room just by walking in with a beautiful body and a killer smile to match. You still have all the things that make me love you, and what you've told me just makes me love you more, because you fell so low and then picked yourself up again just like you always do."

"You love me?" Greg's voice trembled on the question, like he was afraid of the answer.

Nick faltered, for just a second, then he continued on, less sure of himself than before. "Yeah, G, I know it's too soon, way too soon to say this, but life's too short, and I really think I do. I love you, and not in a brotherly kind of way."

Greg's face curled up in a sob again, but this time he slid across the bed and wrapped his arms around Nick, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. His body was wracked with sobs, letting out all the fear and frustration and self-hatred of the last decade. Greg's tears were hot and wet on his humid skin. All Nick could do was wrap his arms around the young man, burying one hand in his hair, the other making comforting circles on his back, feeling the heat beneath the thin t-shirt. He made shhhhing noises, pleasebabydon'tcryyoubreakmyheartwhenyoucry, but all he could do was hold on until the storm passed.

He felt a wet open mouthed kiss on his neck, then a gentle suck with a small nip, then another kiss, and another, and another trailing up to his ear and down his jaw. He pulled Greg's head back with a gentle tug on his hair and looked into his face. His eyes were needy and a little desperate but filled with the same longing that Nick always thought he saw in their shared private moments. Then they were kissing again and this wasn't like their previous testing of the waters. No, this was hot and deep, pushing and pulsing and biting, all lips and teeth and tongue. Greg's arms were tight around him, his hands splayed over Nick's back, and Nick remembered that this was what it was like to be held by a man. Greg had unexpected reserves of strength in his wiry frame.

Nick lay Greg down and positioned himself over Greg's body, the other man's knees falling open to accommodate their new orientation on the horizontal. Nick ran his hands up Greg's inner thighs, delighting in the soft feel of his light brown silky body hair. He stopped and traced the edges of his boxer briefs with his fingers, before leaning forward to position half his weight on his arms and half on Greg, their lower bodies melting into each other. They moaned, and Nick's head swam with the contact high. He kissed Greg's forehead, the bridge of his nose, the birthmark on his right cheek, the corner of his mouth, before capturing his lips again, to which Greg eagerly responded letting out a whimper into Nick's mouth. Their hard erections rubbed together between them, and Nick ran his hands under Greg's shirt, over his heated abs and the cool metal of his belly ring and upwards to tease his nipples. Suddenly, Greg stiffened, and though they kissed for a few more seconds, Nick could tell that the spell was broken.

"Nick." Greg's voice came low and broken between them. "Nick, we have to stop."

"G, what's wrong?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way because this feels so good and I don't want to stop and it's probably going to be painful, very painful, but I'm just not ready for this yet." This all came out in one breath like it tended to do when Greg was nervous. "I don't mean to tease, and I know I started it, and I totally understand if you're pissed, and I guess we don't have to stop, but…"

Nick suddenly understood with perfect clarity that there was a lot more to the story than Greg was telling him, but he was willing to save that revelation for another night. If he ever got his hands on them, he would kill the bastards that had hurt his lover. "G," but Greg continued on unabated.

"I mean, we can just keep keep going, it's no big deal, I can get back into it again, really"

"G, shut up," and Greg flinched, and Nick broke a little because he had, unintentionally or not, hurt him. Nick fluttered kisses over his eyelids, his temples, his nose. "Honey, relax. Of course we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I've waited seven years. I'm a patient man. We can take however long you need." Greg relaxed into the mattress again and heaved a huge sigh, before wrapping his arms around Nick. Nick rolled off him to his back, and brought Greg close again who lay his head on his chest, ear smashed against him like he was listening to his heartbeat.

"You're too good to me, Nicky." Greg spoke into the still night air broken only by the sounds of traffic outside.

"Nothing's too good for you, G."

"Keep that up. Flattery will get you everywhere," Greg said with a slight smile in his voice.

"I intend on it," Nick said. _For the rest of my life_ he added as an internal addendum.

"It's only 7:30," Greg said. "We can sleep a while longer."

Nick hummed in his throat. He relaxed his muscles, and meditated to the feel of Greg's chest moving in and out against him. Right before he fell asleep, he thought he heard Greg say he loved him too, but in that state between waking and dreaming, the mind can play tricks on you.

When he woke to the Rolling Stones at 10:30, he growled and reached to shut off the clock radio, finding empty space next to him. On the clock, there were two post-its side by side, a neon green one and a neon pink one. Greg had written him a note in his barely legible scrawl.

_10 April '06_

_Nick, _

_I remembered I told Grissom I'd be in early tonight, but you looked like you could use some more sleep. There's fresh coffee in the pot, just turn it on, mugs are above the sink. Towels, a tooth brush and a razor are in the bathroom. Would you please feed the cats before you go? I left their bowls and a can on the counter. Make yourself at home. Lock up when you leave. Spare's hidden in the coffee filters. Thanks for last night. What you said meant a lot to me. See you tonight at the lab._

_Yours,_

_G_

Nick grinned. Only Greg would date his post-it notes. And even though it was a salutation, Greg had called himself Nick's. He felt happier than he had been in a long time.

As it turned out, Greg was away on assignment before cases were handed out, so Nick didn't see him again until he pulled into the driveway that morning to help finish processing the murder/ suicide that he was working with Warrick. Greg was sitting on the curb with a camera around his neck, finishing off an apple he had brought to tide him over until real food could be obtained. He raised one hand in greeting which Nick returned before getting out of the car, pulling his kit out of the passenger seat. Greg stood up and brushed off the back of his jeans before throwing the apple core into the sewer.

"Hey, man," Nick said walking up to him. "Here's your spare back." He dug into his pocket to get out the key.

"Hey," Greg said with a small smile. He shrugged. "Keep it."

Nick was flustered, but he hid it, saying, "Alright," before he pulled out his key-ring and slid it next to the key for his condo. "Well whaddya, know," he said. "A matched set." His smile grew a little wider.

"That's the idea," Greg replied. Greg always dressed symbolically, although 98 percent of the time, Nick couldn't figure out the deeper meaning behind the other man's apparel. Today, Greg wore his aviator sunglasses and his black button down. Nick guessed he was trying to get a little emotional distance on the scene and build up his fragile emotional walls. What Nick was more interested in, though, was that Greg's brown leather wrist cuffs had reappeared from the depths of his wardrobe. In his own way, Greg seemed to be announcing to the world that he was a taken man. "Coffee after shift," Greg asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Wouldn't miss it," Nick replied easily. "So, Greggo," Nick said, clapping the other man on his shoulder. "Tell me what we've got." They turned and started towards the house.

Greg grinned and said, "Male and female DB, matching cranial gunshot wounds…"

A/N: Well, that took quite awhile to write, followed by some hyperventilating when Word froze up. Thank god for autorecovery. At least Microsoft can do something right. There's more to come…a lot more. So stick around. I hope you're as happy with the final product of this chapter as I am.


	5. Every Lesson Learned Well Earned

Title: The Medallion

Author: subobscura

Rating: still T I guess

See part 1 for ratings and headers.

A/N: Oh, how I lament. Why am I physically incapable of writing fluff? Why do I just want to torture the hell out of Greg and then have Nick comfort him? He's so cute and adorable, and just begging to be broken into lots of tiny pieces. Feedback is appreciated. I promise I will reply this time around. Erykah Badu inspired the title.

Part 5: Every Lesson Learned Well Earned

He smelled Nick before he could see him or feel him. Greg was standing in front of the evidence table piecing together hopelessly shredded documents that may or may not be relevant to the hubby who just offed his wife and then himself by splattering their brains all over their Ikea living room. Normally, Greg had at least some patience; after all, chemistry was usually a game of waiting for the pot to boil, waiting for the reaction to proceed, waiting for the GCMS to stop being a bitch and give up his results. But today, he was rapidly flipping though tiny strips of paper, bouncing on the balls of his feet and nodding his head to The Sex Pistols, celebrating their boycott of their induction to the Rock N' Roll Hall of Fame. And then Nick's aftershave washed over him, and his already meager attention span snapped like an old rubber band.

"Hey, Nick," he said without turning around, and he heard the soft displacement of air as the cowboy moved into the room. He smiled, still without turning. Nick stood close enough that Greg could feel heat radiating off the other man.

"How do you always do that," Nick breathed into his ear, accent set to full twang.

"Magic," Greg breathed back, still trying in vain to look busy, even though he knew that Nick knew that he was faking it.

"Liar," Nick said, and now his hand was low on Greg's waist, and Greg momentarily panicked before he remembered the whiteboard hid them from this angle, and they looked to outsiders like two colleagues conferring on a case.

"Moi? A liar? I'm offended that you would think so little of me," he replied, leaning slightly back into Nick's hand. Nick's thumb just brushed the upper curve of his ass, and Greg shivered at the intimate contact.

"Well, you do keep your secrets well, Sanders." Greg swallowed and looked down. He knew Nick would hold that against him eventually. The gentle hand moved to the small of his back and then Nick said,

"Calm down, G. It was a joke." When he looked over, Nick's eyes were soft. "Still up for that coffee?"

Greg turned so their faces were just inches apart and they were breathing the same air. "Most definitely." Greg swept the little pieces of paper into an evidence envelope without so much as a second thought.

Later, they were strolling in an easy pace down the Strip, Greg sipping a quadruple shot latte while Nick stuck to regular coffee, although he had caved and gotten the Jamaican Blue at Greg's insistence. Greg held his cup in one hand, the other stuck in his pocket as he ambled along with that walk that was all from his hips and that went straight to Nick's groin. The Strip was never beautiful in Greg's opinion, but there were times like the early morning when it was less obnoxious than usual. They passed the Paris hot air balloon and the Eiffel tower and Bally's on down towards the Tangiers, and all of a sudden Greg was nostalgic for the real thing, with a French spring and baguettes and European espresso and Nick at his side. The vision hit him hard- he wasn't used to such sappy fantasies.

"So I don't want you to think I'm a weepy mess all the time," Greg said conversationally, sipping carefully at his drink. "Usually, I'm a lot more manly."

"No harm, no foul, Greggo. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough around me to let me see you like that." Nick watched his young lover in the morning sunlight, haloed in gold.

Greg lifted a shoulder and turned to walk backwards just a little in front of Nick. "It's been an emotional 24 hours. Yesterday morning around this time, we'd barely spoken in a year, and now Nick Stokes is my new boyfriend who knows that I used to be a junkie prostitute. It's a lot to take in, no offense." Nick flinched a little at his frank description, but didn't try to placate Greg. He had no right to make historical revisions of Greg's past, and however deeply ashamed of it Greg was, Nick could tell that he fiercely owned it as a central facet of his personality.

Nick stopped and Greg stopped in front of him. Nick reached out and pulled him closer, sliding his hand under the leather jacket that would be too hot to wear in just a few weeks. Greg was just slightly taller than him, so he angled his lips up to meet him in a soft public kiss. He could feel Greg's surprise, but he didn't seem to mind, placing his arm around Nick's shoulder. The kiss deepened slightly, until a harried mother ran into them chasing after her two daughters already gone down the street. She smiled at them distractedly and murmured a rushed apology before chasing off after the girls.

"Wow," Greg said. "This is real. I can't quite get my head around it. And I never imagined in a million years you'd make out with a guy in the middle of the Strip. I never imagined you making out with a guy period."

"I know what you mean," said Nick. He took Greg's hand and they turned on the sidewalk by unspoken agreement to head back to Greg's car.

"So are you?" Greg's tone was curious.

"Am I what?"

"Gay?"

"Oh, no, I'm bi. Although, I'll be the first to admit I've never tried a relationship with a man before. Just one night stands. Hell, my longest relationship male or female has been two months."

"That's not a promising start to a new relationship, Nicky." Nick was about to defend himself when he saw the twinkle in Greg's warm cinnamon eyes.

"What about you?"

"Same, although I've had two long-term boyfriends."

"And?"

"And they didn't work out." Greg's chatter had turned frosty, and Nick knew that further elaboration would not be forthcoming.

They were at Greg's Passat now, and Nick followed him to the driver's side. Greg lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not easy. No one gets to drive on the first date."

"G, come here." Greg immediately moved forward into Nick's arms placing his head on the Texan's broad strong shoulders. He nuzzled Nick's five o'clock shadow with his nose and breathed in the spicy scent that he didn't know the name of. "Somebody hurt you bad, didn't they baby?" Greg nodded against his hot skin, not trusting himself at first to speak. He cleared his throat.

"Only because I hurt myself first."

"How have you been _you_ all this time, hiding this much pain?"

"Usually I don't think about it. Life moves forward, and I go on dates I don't care about and sometimes sleep with people I don't have any real feelings for. You're the first person in a long time that I really love who's cared enough to ask. And that opens ancient cans of worms."

"I'm sorry I didn't notice before." Nick sounded truly apologetic.

"I didn't want you to. Like I was saying before, I probably never would have told anyone if you hadn't accidentally found me out. Acting's second nature to me now."

"That's sad, babe. I want you to be you, not who we think you should be."

"I am me, most of the time. Just sometimes I'm not."

"Okay."

"Nick, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Nick loved having his arms around Greg, swaying slowly, letting the conversation unwind like string between them, tying them together in knots.

"Why now? Why are you so calm about this? Honestly, I never thought I'd be the neurotic one between the two of us, but here we are and I'm freaking and you're not."

"I've seen the worst life has to offer, hon. My credibility has been destroyed- defense attorneys will always have the perfect excuse to attack my objectivity. It's too soon for them to do it yet, but the day will come when I'll have to face that down in the witness box. My personal life was exposed to God and Country on CNN and Court TV. I usually can't sleep, most of my family isn't speaking to me for one reason or another, and I get really damn freaky fan-mail. Having a gay relationship is pretty much the least of my problems."

Greg chuffed. "When you put it like that, I can see your point. Besides, I'm just generally terrified of a relationship, not the whole gay thing."

"Well, that's good I guess," Nick said grinning. "I wouldn't want you to be ashamed of us." Greg looked up.

"Never," he said. "Too much has happened for me to take us for granted like that."

Nick responded with a slow, sensual kiss that sent shivers from Greg's knees to the top of his spine. Apparently, when Nick made up his mind, he had a single-minded determination that was damn sexy. Nick broke from him, and placed a chaste kiss on Greg's forehead. "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to get some laundry done. My towels are about to stand up on their own and start a revolt."

"Come do it at my house," Greg said on a whim. He hadn't meant to issue the invitation, but now that he had, he held his breath for Nick's response.

"Alright, but no mixing our unmentionables. We're not that domestic yet."

Greg unlocked the doors with a smile, listening to the click echo in the parking lot.


End file.
